A Closer Look

“Thinking is more interesting than knowing, but less interesting than looking”
 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Every object with age holds a story. Information about its maker and the people who have owned and lived with it though the years are imprinted upon its surface. Sometimes subtley in layers that require close examination to tease out the ghosts and sometimes not. Often the initial visual representation and impression an object presents, can be misleading and confusing.

Years ago when working at Caledonian Inc., Barry Heath said to me (and I paraphrase) "If the object raises one unexplainable question it's probably not a concern, at two you need to pay very close attention to all the details, at three... its best to walk away."

Direct visual examination of an object that requires "attention to all the details" can only tell you so much, so additional methods can be undertaken to reveal the unseen.

Ultraviolet Light
Objects examined in UV fluoresce differently depending upon their chemical make-up. Newer materials and surfaces disturbed by repairs are readily visible when viewed in the ultraviolet spectrum. It is a simple examination technique that can reveal a wealth of information in a short amount of time.

Pictured here is a stone sculpture from Angkor Wat in Cambodia. In visible light the sculpture appears primarily whole and complete but there were area's that begged for more attention and information. In UV light it was immediately apparent that time has taken its toll. Expertly restored it presents itself as close to pristine condition in visible light. A quick examination in ultraviolet reveals the truth.


The purple and yellow areas are newer materials, painted over the breaks and repaired losses on the surface of the sculpture. The original natural stone appears gray and unresponsive to UV radiation.

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Microscopy
Just like putting on a pair of "ready readers" to read the paper, looking at an object under magnification can tell you considerably more about its structure and detail.

Pictured here is an early 19th century Chinese shagreen eyeglass case.

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From Wikipedia:
In the 17th and early 18th centuries, the term "shagreen" began to be applied to leather made from sharkskin or the skin of a ray (probably the pearled ray, Hypolophus sephen). This form is also termed sharkskin or galuchat. Such skins are naturally covered with round, closely set, calcified papillae called placoid scales, whose size is chiefly dependent on the age and size of the animal. These scales are ground down to give a roughened surface of rounded pale protrusions, between which the dye (again, typically green vegetable dye) shows when the material is coloured from the other side.

A wonderful material...but more so when viewed at higher magnification.

Mass Production "1750 style"

with a little 21st century help

When this pair of  demi-lune tables arrived only one of the 12 carved corner brackets or spandrels  remained entirely intact. I decided it was best to make complete spandrels and than cut them into the remaining sections to retain as much of the original as possible.

Traditionally a  tracing or rubbing would be made to duplicate the missing parts.

Instead I photographed the bracket, scaled it in Adobe Photoshop and traced over it in Corel Designer. After adjusting for the printers scaling I printed out 12 perfect templates giving me one more bracket than I needed but allowing for "mistakes" From that point on it was back to the eighteenth century.

The first step was to cut out all of the profiles with a scroll saw and clean up the corners and inside cuts with a chisel.

Then the template was cut into sections and the details traced onto the faces of the blanks.

Its always tempting to want to carve one of the pieces completely at this point. But being impatient to see the final result will lead to a lack of uniformity. Completely carving each bracket before starting the next would mean that each one is unique and individual - an admirable trait in some things but not in a repeating pattern.

The face elevations are all carved on each piece followed by the rounding or each leaf followed by the... section by section, piece by piece.






A very gratifying and peaceful way to spend an afternoon - or three.


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History

In talking to the client about this post it became apparent that I had neglected some relevant history. This pair of demi-lunes was a "near" pair. The earlier piece being 18th century, the later an almost perfect copy made in the late 1800's.

Thank you Don for refreshing my memory!

The Leg Repair

Usually when a leg breaks on any piece of furniture its an easy task to put the parts back together. In the case of this leg however, there is little if any support for such a cross grain break. 

The rule of thumb I was taught was that the gluing surface should be a minimum of 6 to 1. Six times longer than the thickness.

Obviously not possible here so it has to be doweled through the break.The next problem is - how can you possible get a dowel aligned straight through the break when the surface is so irregular?

If the break was closer to either end of the leg you could glue it together and then drill through the break after it had dried.  In this instance the break is 16 inches from the closet end so not a possibility.

So... I squared the leg up on my mitre box and cut through the leg just above the break. Glued the break together, centered the two sides and drilled the dowel hole. I glued the joint using West System epoxy, a material best known for boat building. It provides an incredible amount of strength and ages well.

With the addition of a small amount of micro balloon filler it also fills gaps and voids in the joint. Slight pressure from a packing band to hold it together until it dried and we're on to the finishing process.

              

Glues and Adhesives

In most situations I avoid using epoxy like the plague. It is completely irreversible making it unsuitable for most conservation work. If you make an error in reassembly or the piece shifts as it cures you are left with no options for realignment of the joint.

While it should never be used in a cut joint, occasionally when a section is broken in an area that needs structural stability, it has is purposes. With this repair, the leg is delicate and holding up a 6 foot long mahogany sideboard. The use of the dowel will add strength (that 6:1 ratio) and keep the joint true and square until cured. Other options would require replacing the leg or removing so much of the original material as to disfigure the piece.

mea maxima culpa...

The Carpenters Chest

One of the things I’ve always found most intriguing about older objects is the stories they have and the secrets they hold. When I started working on the carpenters’ chest, I made the mistake of thinking it was a straight forward restoration without any mysteries. When I got it into the shop it was overpainted with a dark green black paint. The project was to remove the majority of the paint and make it more presentable. It was such a uncomplicated and quick task that I didn’t take before photos.

The brass plaque centered on the back edge of the lid reads “Frank Cunningham”. It is placed at the top of a scribed intersecting circle mandela. The lines of the circle pass through the brass plate. My assumption was that this was the original owner.

Crudely carved through the pattern was the name “C.LEFE” and the beginning of what looked like the letter “I”. It seemed a safe bet that a subsequent owner had started to carve his name into the lid and gave up. Why he didn’t remove the brass plaque was a mystery.

When I started removing the paint from the case I noticed what appeared to be another pattern on the front panel. I changed to a less aggressive manner of removal and uncovered block letters across the front.

W.C. LEFEBER

This lettering was done in a clean and precise manner that was a stark contrast to the amateur attempt at incised carving on the lid. The letters were applied by sealing the raw wood in the shape of the letters and then “reverse” staining the panel to darken the background. This was not a technique that seemed in keeping with the “talents” of the lid carver. The fact that the letters were reverse stained also meant they were most probably done when the wood was new.

So was W.C. Leferber the original owner and Frank Cunningham added the plaque and Mandela over the crudely carved name? Or if Mr. Cunningham was the original owner how did Mr. Leferber get his name on the front panel in such a precise manner under the finish?

I have a felling the possibilities are endless as to how and when all of these things were added to the chest.  You just got to love a mystery.

A note on the age and some woodworking history
In cleaning up the surface the machining tool marks became apparent. This kind regular pattern is caused by the use of a wood planer which was not in use in a major way until the middle of the 19th century,

“The first actual wood planing machine was built by Malcolm Muir of Glasgow, Scotland in 1827. The planer's purpose was specifically for the milling of tongue and groove flooring. State side a similar machine was invented and patented in 1828 by William “Uncle Billy” Woodworth.

These first planing machines did not sit well with the carpenters and consequently 24 hour security was required at the mills to protect the machines.” author Sally Fishburn

   

The style of the hardware which is original to the case with is egyptian inflenced Victorian design and my best guesstimate would be that the case was made between 1875 and 1890.









 

The Grandfather Clock

When I first saw this clock I knew it was going to be quite the "project”. The piece had been stored unused in the basement for over 30 years. Given the humidity in the basement it’s fairly amazing that it was in as good a condition as it was. I brought the piece to the studio in mid January and set to work sorting out the problems.

The upper case was separated from the base at the waist and the base was in 5 to 6 pieces. The majority of the feet were missing but enough of the original ground work remained to determine their original dimensions.

The cornice on the hood was detached on one side and one of the finials was broken. Two of the upper case shoulder moldings were missing as was the glass for the hood door along with one hinge.

The works were heavily corroded and pitted the chapter rings had lost most of their silvering and the moon dial was extremely degraded with large areas of loose and tented decoration.

I began the process by re-gluing all of the broken sections of the base and replacing the missing feet. From there I reattached the mid case to the base and re-applied the waist mouldings. Once the case was standing on its own I continued re-gluing all of the remaining joinery.

The portion of the restoration presenting the biggest challenge was the painted moon dial. The painted surface was friable with little or no adhesion to the groundwork. Any contact with the surface dislodged sections of the paint.

I began cleaning the more stable areas with a small dry short haired brush, removing as much of the surface dust as possible without disturbing the painted surface. Cleaning further with a mild detergent all areas that would hold up to mechanical interaction. Left with no way to remove the dust and grime from the remaining portions I flooded the surface with Soluvar flat medium.

Slightly warming the moon dial as the varnish set up I collapsed the tented paint to the ground with a small burnisher. 24 hours later I had a primarily stable surface with a large amount of dust glued to it!

Now that the paint layer was adhered to the groundwork, I simply removed all of the Soluvar from the surface with turpentine, mineral spirits and Q-tips. With 95% of the grime removed I sealed the surface with Soluvar gloss and did a minimum of in-painting of the losses with acrylics. 

The clock face itself was less problematic. It was a simple task to disassemble all of the parts and clean them non-mechanically with a mild pickling solution. After re-silvering the chapter rings all of the pieces were lacquered and then re-assembled.

 With the works in order I set about making the missing cornice sections. Digging through my scarp I found a length of brown English oak of about the right color and texture. Using a set of antique hollows and rounds I planed the pieces to the proper profile and fit them to the case.

The existing coating on the case was black and so heavily pigmented that you could have easily mistaken it for paint. The majority of it washed away with little more than alcohol. Using traditional French polish I built up the new coating over the course of two days adding small amounts of Van Dyke water stain in the corners and depressions to mimic the age marks.

After re-glazing the hood door, making one offset hinge and the waist door escutcheon from sheet brass and cutting a new key the clock was finished. 

The final effect was exhilarating and immensely gratifying, but then as is often the case after spending a little over 3 months with a project like this, it occurred to me I had to give it back to the owners. Funny how attached you can get!

Elliott of London - Clock History

In 1865 James Jones Elliott of 156 Cheapside in the City of London, was apprenticed to "Bateman" of 82 St John Street, Smithfield, London, to learn the art of clock making.

It was not obvious at the time, but this was to be the origin of a company that would achieve a worldwide reputation as a manufacturer of the fine quality Elliott of London clock.

JJ Elliott specialized initially in producing pinions and balance shafts, he progressed to making, and patenting, a weight driven movement which had chimes on tubes. This original Elliott clock was very successful and resulted in considerable trade with America.

James Elliott's son, Frank Westcombe Elliott, was originally entering the retail trade as, when he was 17 years old, his father bought a partnership with a jeweler called Walden of Brompton Road, London. On the 16th April 1904, JJ Elliott died and Frank succeeded him to run the clockmaking business. In 1909 the clockmakers company of JJ Elliott amalgamated with Grimshaw Baxter, and the factory moved to Grays Inn Lane, London, in 1911, followed by a further move, in 1917, to larger premises in St Anns Road, Tottenham, London.

In 1921 the partnership with Grimshaw Baxter was dissolved and Frank Elliott joined a well known firm of Bell Founders and Clockmakers, Gillett and Johnson Ltd, in Croydon. In 1923, two years later, he took over their clock factory and formed the famous company of F.W. Elliott Ltd. He was joined by his two sons, Leonard and Horace Elliott, who had served their apprenticeships in the trade. The third son, Ronald, joined the company in 1929.

Elliott's started to produce clocks for the armed forces when war was declared in 1939, together with test gear and apparatus for the Rolls Royce engines used in the RAF planes. The factory was hit by incendiary bombs in 1943 on two occasions but production was not seriously affected.

In 1944, Frank Elliott died at the age of 69 and Horace Elliott assumed the role of Managing Director, whilst Horace controlled sales from a showroom in Hatton Garden. In 1952, Horace Elliott was elected Chairman of the British Horological Institute in the same year as Tony, one of Horace's sons, joined the company after training in cabinet making. He was appointed manager of the cabinet shop in 1967.

Ronald Elliott died suddenly in 1966, at the age of 54, his son Peter had joined the company in January of the same year, having been trained as an engineer at Vickers Instruments Ltd. Peter Elliott was appointed as a Director in 1969.